


Lie to Make it Better

by virgo_writer



Category: Make It or Break It
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Episode Related, F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s), One-Sided Relationship, Self-Hatred, character introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-09-08
Packaged: 2020-09-01 20:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20263957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virgo_writer/pseuds/virgo_writer
Summary: Sometimes you're better off not knowing the truth.





	Lie to Make it Better

**Author's Note:**

> Universe: MIOBI canon, I Won't Dance, Don't Make Me

**Lie to Make it Better**

He told himself he'd do it for any of his gymnasts, if that was what they needed. That he'd do the exact same thing for Kaylie or Emily or even Lauren if it were required of him. That there was nothing special about Payson Keeler.

That was probably his biggest lie of all.

But he was only doing what any coach would do. A good coach. A coach who cared about his athletes and wanted them to succeed even in the face of insurmountable adversity. That was just the kind of coach he was.

The kind of man he was.

And Payson was just . . . she needed this. That was all there was to it. This wasn't a date, even if it did kind of look like one. It was just about making her see herself the way that he saw her – about her seeing how beautiful and graceful she really was.

And when they went for ice cream afterwards that was okay too, because . . . well, because . . . does it matter? Did he really have to explain every action he took towards her? This wasn't an interrogation – just introspection – and there wasn't anything wrong with buying a seventeen year old an ice cream . . . right?

"Thank you, Sasha," she said as he handed her a cup and they took a seat at one of the 1950s style booths.

She smiled at him softly and he really wished she hadn't smiled at him like that. He was accustomed to her usual smiles – the slow blooming smile when something made her really happy with her features scrunched up in joy and her pearly teeth on display. It was childish and made her look exactly her age, but with her smile all soft and gentle and her hair back and her very grown up black dress she looked older than her seventeen years and it took him more than a moment to remember that she wasn't and it wasn't okay for him to think about how much he loved that smile and wished he could see it more often.

She made it too easy to lie to himself and pretend that it was all okay.

He smiled back at her before he could stop himself, her smile infectious. His own was slightly goofy, having the opposite effect to hers, taking years off his trouble worn features. With their matching smiles, they looked perfectly alright together – a couple in their twenties, that's what they looked like, and there was nothing wrong with that. People that age could go out together all the time and nobody would ever question whether he was taking advantage of her or call their relationship inappropriate.

A part of him wished he could pretend for a moment that it was true, because then it would be okay for him to reach across the table and wipe away the trace of sorbet at the corner of her lips, or kiss her hard and find out whether the lemon sorbet tasted as good as her soft hum of enjoyment indicated. Instead he just indicated towards it with his hand and watched intently as her pink tongue darted out to catch the wayward drop.

"Gone?" she asked, her questioning expression sweet and innocent, making him feel like the dirty old pervert he was for his earlier thoughts. He gulped heavily, hoping she wouldn't notice, and nodded his head before turning back to his own ice cream.

"Wanna try?" she asked, offering her cup towards him, her expression, once again, gentle and wise and well beyond her years.

He smiled flirtatiously, unable to help himself. "Is that just your way of telling me you want some of mine, Payson Keeler?" he teased her with a broad grin, glad that she didn't have the experience to read into his actions what was already there – interest and attraction. She nodded sheepishly, and he offered his cone towards her – a crème brulee in a waffle cone that she couldn't have chosen for herself due to the fat and sugar content, but which he'd seen her looking at with a sort of longing stare before ordering the 99.9% fat free, sugar-free lemon sorbet in an inedible cardboard cup – so she could take a small scope with just the tip of her spoon. It was hardly even a taster, but she knew all too well what she could and couldn't have because of her gymnastics diet.

He shouldn't have watched her – he really tried not to – but she made it too easy to forget. She was so grown up in some ways – surely he could be forgiven for at times forgetting that the pretty girl sitting opposite him slowly savouring the creamy dessert on her tongue was still only a teenager and that it was wrong for her to mean as much to him as she did.

He took her home not long after, just barely restraining himself from kissing her outside her door, but unable to help the slightly more platonic squeeze of her hand as he said goodbye.

The very next day he asked out Summer Van Horne.

Because it was easier lying to her than to himself.


End file.
